Pokemon: Blood on Gray ashes
by Sherlock D Holmes
Summary: This is a story, my friend. It isn't a story of how I became the very best, nor how I got the girl and rode off into the sunset. It's a tale of how I lost my very being to an ambition that wasn't even mine to begin with. It's a tale of how I demolished my axioms and did the unthinkable. What this tale is... is definitely not for kids.


**Synopsis** : This is a story. It isn't a story of how I became the very best, nor how I got the girl and rode off into the sunsett. It's a tale of how I lost my very being to an ambition that wasn't even mine to begin with. It's a tale of how I demolished my axioms and did the unthinkable.

What this tale is... is definitely not for kids.

* * *

All genres (in order of magnitude): Action, adventure, drama, humor, and trace amounts of romance

 **Generic Disclaimer** : I don't own pokemon, nor do I own any of its affiliate companies. Hell, I hardly even own my characters lol. If I did, I wouldn't be here writing fanfictions, now would I?

Pokemon: Blood on Gray Ashes

Prologue

The first step

 _"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby becomes a monster._

 _And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee."_

 _-Friedrich Nietzsche, philosopher, social critic, and cultural poet_

::::::-/-\\-::::::

A common phrase.

'Caught between a rock and a hard place'.

Never does that phrase have more meaning than when you experience an instance which can be described by that phrase. On the precipice of madness, where jumping across would mean sure insanity, but hesitating for even a second could destroy everything you've built up in your life leading to this one ephemeral moment.

This one fleeting point in time, never to be revisited. Where the world is set ablaze, and the only thing that matters is what's right in front of you, and what lengths you'd go through to obtain it.

I made the leap.

::::::-/-\\-::::::

The sun shone into my window, signifying another incoming day. The only thing the sunlight did was irritate my eyes slightly as I faced the window. I hadn't had a single minute of sleep last night. Not because I didn't want to. I just couldn't. My anticipation had sky-rocketed the night before and my constant stream of thoughts hadn't let me even a single second of peace. It's no mystery, however. After all, I did turn 16 this year.

Today's my first day as a trainer.

Having anticipated this day for so many years, I hadn't wasted any time sleeping. I was on my desktop computer, going through all my notes. All the knowledge that a trainer was expected to have, plus more. I had memorized every single discovered Pokemon species in Kalos, and I-

 _RIIIIIIIIIIIING_

 _6 AM already?_

The alarm had my heart leap to my throat at its sudden outburst. Usually, I wouldn't react so neurotically, but as I was so riled up on adrenaline, I just couldn't help but feel justified in throwing the alarm clock out of my window. Upon regaining my bearing, I reached for the tube of anti-anxiety medicine and popped two tablets, washing it down with a glass of water that stood on my desk. Hearing the ringing stop hinted towards the clock's destruction. I didn't matter, for this might be the last time I'll ever experience the pleasure of my room. I rubbed my eyes before exiting my windows and switching my desktop off. I stood up slowly, having sat on that chair for around 8 hours consecutively. I shook my limbs and stretched them, cracking my joints in an almost symphonic way.

Time for the morning drill.

The same damn drill that I've been doing for the past 5 years, in preparation for this day. 2 sets of 50 push, 4 sets of 50 situps, a single set of 50 squats, and 2 sets of arm curls on each arm with a 10-kilo dumbbell. Of course, being a Pokemon trainer meant more than just studying myself dumb. If a wild arcanine were to chase me, a 160 IQ wouldn't do squat to save me.

Come to think of it, what would save me if a wild arcanine chased me? If I began fresh and had weak Pokemon, such an encounter would mean my death. My heart sank at the thought, like it had done countless times before, every time I imagine my demise at the hands of a feral Pokemon.

Of course, that's the only thing that would keep me alive. Having memorized dozens of contingencies for random encounters in the wild, I can surely say that I can survive, with no doubt at all, at least a single night in the wild.

There isn't a brain big enough that can memorize every single tactic to use on every single wild Pokemon that one may encounter in the wild. That's where intuition comes in, and according to the trainer aptitude test I took weeks earlier...

I'm _adequate_.

Unfortunately, I tend to get nervous quickly, and as a result slows down my cognition. Which is why I've done my best to control my nervousness. From watching gore images online about taming feral Pokemon gone wrong, to Arceus-knows-what kinds of stuff, I've been trying to desensitize myself for quite a while. For the most part, it's worked. The visceral feeling I get from looking at entrails has gradually faded, and I don't feel quite as sick looking at dismembered limbs, but I knew the only thing that could really get me indifferent to that stuff is an experience.

Something I've hoped desperately I would never obtain.

I quickly get through my last drill and later head to the bathroom, which I took a hot shower, which I'd wager would be my last for quite a few months. While in the middle of brushing my teeth, my mother calls my name from downstairs.

"Calem! Today's your big day, get ready!" she yelled. Her enthusiasm was unnatural, and quite frankly, disgusting as a result. I'd be marching off towards an uncertain future, yet she seems so calm about the whole thing.

"Coming..." I yelled back, grumpily. As my clothes lay on the rack, courtesy of my mom, and my bag, fully packed beside the door, I clothed myself and quickly wore my large rucksack and headed downwards.

What greeted my nose had me in near tears of happiness. Pancakes covered in honey and a side of buttered waffles. My mom hadn't noticed my entrance as she had her back against me. I headed towards the table and sat down quickly, loud enough to alert my mom.

"Didn't see you there. Here, enjoy," she says as she lays the plate in front of me, and a glass of orange juice. My mouth watered at the sight, and I devoured the food in less than a minute, afterward reclining my back on the chair.

"Thanks for the meal, mom,"

"Hope you enjoyed it because it might be your last," she then replies, in an ominous tone of voice. I was too depressed to really find anything funny, especially her twisted sense of humor. All the while, she was as jolly as ever, taking great pleasure in doing the chores, like she always does.

"I might actually die," the remark didn't hit as hard as I hoped, and only earned me a raised finger, a protest, and a scowl.

"Wrong, you won't die. Remember why? Because you're my son, of course!" she replies, hugging me in the process.

I couldn't have _not_ cracked a tiny smile. I mean, who could?!

I just couldn't bear to protest to that, anyhow. I'm not heartless. I let out a large burp before standing up and walking towards the staircase where I dropped my bag. Picking it up slowly, I felt my strength fade a tad bit. I went towards the rack that was right next to the door, and grabbed my cap and sunglasses. I wore my signature blue jacket with a white line running through the middle. I looked back to see my mother one last time, as she was doing the dishes. She looked up at me, a supportive smile plastered on her face.

No trace of grief or sadness. She couldn't afford something like that now that I needed her strength the most, especially when my own strength had already failed me. She dropped the dishes gently on the sink as she took off to give me one last hug. I could feel my breathing was restricted, but I just couldn't help but hug her back. She was the same height as I was, 5'10, but I just couldn't help but reminisce on the times when she would have to bow down to hug me.

Memories of my first Rhyhorn riding accident comes to mind, where she'd hug me for not crying, even though I fractured my tibia. Countless other memories resurfaced, but I tried my damndest to simply focus on what lay ahead for me.

The hug felt like an eternity, yet it lasted for seconds. Mom hates wasting time, so she'd rather have me on my journey as soon as possible. I felt her grip loosen, and as she did, my arms also went limp. I dragged my sunglasses that lay perched atop my cap downwards, placing them in front of my eyes, lest she sees the tears that were developing.

"Go on, son... make me proud," she tells me solemnly, her ever-bright smile reflecting the morning sun. I turn my back on her, almost hitting her with my bag, and walk forwards, continuing to move outside my mother's property, out the gate, and turn so I can continue walking on the sidewalk, but just before that, I take a quick look at my mother, who hadn't budged at all, still standing right outside the door, waving.

My mother deserved an oscar. Both she and I knew how much she was hurting, yet she continued displaying such strength. I couldn't help shedding a few tears.

I was about to leave Vaniville, my home town. A town I was born in, and have lived in for the past 16 years of my life. There weren't really many places I've been to in the world, other than Vaniville or the closest city to Vaniville, being Aquacorde city, an architectural wonder, in and of itself.

Vaniville was a sleepy town, really. One of the southern-most towns in the Kalos region. Reserved for high earners, it was needless to say that the local school was patronized by haughty and proud spawns of business moguls and famed trainers.

There really wasn't much to say about the area, other than its overall softness and general lack of spice and excitement. Due to my relatively down-to-earth upbringing, and a down-to-earth mother as my sole guardian, I've always come to find myself singled out of all the cliques the town had to offer.

Money was never a problem for my mother. Having already retired at the relatively young age of forty, she had more than enough money to spend on maids and cleaners but didn't. Instead, we lived in a modest duplex, with all necessary amenities, as well as a few select luxuries meant for simple recreation.

My mother was not stingy for this reason. She had no love for the lavish lifestyle, and upon reflecting on my past, the sole reason she brought me up in this hubris-addled town was most likely to boost my individuality.

Needless to say, I was at the top of my class. Most of my colleagues were too busy riding their expensive Pidgeotto and Rapidash's to really care much for school work. This was despite the fact that half my class were bragging about becoming future pokemon trainers, but I knew better. Three months down the line and they'll resort to fighting in the Battle Chateau down in route 7 and attempt to climb the nobility with nothing but their starter, as their kind could hardly catch a pinned-down scatterbug.

This was, save for a few of my classmates, of course. Although names do escape me, there was a clique that was especially outcast from the majority of the school community, but unfortunately, I could never even find myself among them.

The group was seemingly led by the amiable beauty known as Serena. A class president and second to first place in class in terms of academics, she had a large portion of boys in the school that was after her. Whether that be her affection or her virginity, none of it could be bought, and when I say that boys 'were' after her, I mean that there was a time when it all ceased.

Having publicly humiliated a boy so severely, his entire family decided to skip town lest their son becomes a victim of severe, mentally traumatizing bullying. Details weren't clear on who exactly was the causer of the entire debacle, but it has become common knowledge among students that it was, in fact, largely the work of two of Serena's best friends, Tierno and Trevor.

Only a fool would believe that it was none other than Serena who caused it all, and needless to say, I was no fool. Serena wouldn't hurt her own pet fletchling even if it tore her homework apart.

The boy, however, was no one to receive pity. As potential suitors come and go, this particular one was quite the tenacious one.

Unfortunately, he was also a misogynist. A bratty, entitled, misogynistic and toxic person. Jake was his name, and to this day, my stomach still churns thinking about him.

Among the many attempts that he made at winning Serena over, he had grown quite weary of jumping through the various hoops he himself had set up so he could have a chance with hers truly. What no one expected was that the boy suddenly snapped in the middle of the classroom, minutes before any teacher entered the room. Gripping Serena's forearm tightly, and baring his teeth at her lecherously as he licked his lips, he whispered in her right ear something I could only infer was either a threat or a simple resolve he had to one day make her his. Her writing hand was rendered useless as her entire arm ached when she moved it, and ultimately failed a pop-quiz that occured during that lesson, placing her under my term grade by a hair-thin margin. If it wasn't for Jake, my number 1 position would be forfeit, but I never cared about my position in class. I was, and still am a firm believer of self-improvement, and that it has nothing to do with anyone around me.

But I digress. What poor Jake never took on account was her friends' inventiveness and callousness when it came to any harm inflicted on their friend. Tierno's father was a well-known pokemon ranger and prized collector in the region, and always had an impressive stock of pokemon lying in their house's gallery room. Trevor was also a skilled IT student, the one subject he had me beat at, and his father was also one of the award-winning scientists that contributed to the creation of PorygonZ. A quick schedule manipulation, autonomous ringing of fire alarm caused by a timed code, a glitch causing all the CCTV cameras in the vicinity to turn of and a mean portion of one rambunctious Ghastly later had poor Jake completely flabbergasted.

There was little that could hide the large yellow puddle, and the yellow stain that stained the boy's white pants. Jake couldn't handle the pressure of a live ghastly levitating in front of him, and being only 15 at the time, had no experience with ghost-type pokemon at all, which furthered the impact the horrid creature had on him. He couldn't take any more of its presence, and as a result, blacked out due to vasovagal syncope, or in layman's terms, _fainting._

No teacher was present yet, courtesy of another friend of Serena, Shauna, keeping them busy in the corridors. No real evidence was discovered, and due to how Jake acted, no one even wanted to give their testimony on what happened that day, and for this reason, the case was dropped as quickly as it was brought up, with no way to glean any information of what really happened.

You might be wondering how I know all these details. It's easy, there was a time when that amiable class president beauty was none other than my girlfriend, but it was long past, those days. Our assumed love was simply not as potent as it was during the first day, and as a result, the miasma that we call love only lasted for nearly half a year, before we both decided that we found nothing in each other. It was a clean, neat break. No hard feelings, and we still talked from time to time.

There was no one in that school that could compare to Serena. She was in a league of her own. The same league I was in, if only half a rank lower. Sadly to say, there was a pathetic amount of chaff in our school, that no one had bothered to separate from the wheat, and as a result, made her shine even brighter in comparison. I was never a type to obsess over what my colleagues were up to or what they did after school, but her, I couldn't resist knowing about. She was applying to become a pokemon trainer, and had expressed dozens of times that her goal was to become the pokemon champion of Kalos League. I never doubted her ability to amount to something big. A testimony to that would be the fact that she, along with her friends and I were all qualified to graduate early, at the young age of 16, to embark on our life-threatening journey in search of eight badges of arbitrary value, obtained by sending my tamed creatures to fight, and maybe even die, at the hands of a person whom had trained their own beast to kill.

The whole affair was sketchy, to say the least. It just fueled the motivations of the inter-regional Pokemon rights movements that seemed so widespread. If you ask me, I'll say that the entire thing was of epic idiocy. Not only did they advocate to stop Pokemon battling, they protest the rights to even own a Pokemon.

To get things clear, I don't believe pokemon are for pets. Sure, a muzzled poochyena, or a de-volted Pikachu, and you'd have a harmless pet. Those 'pets', however, aren't going to be protecting any human being from a houndoom attack, or a hungry arcanine. Pokemon are to protect human beings, and that's final. Humans are utterly weak in every aspect other than our inventiveness. Hell, we have Pokemon that beat us in intelligence and wisdom (see Alakazam, Metagross, Mewtwo). If it weren't for the rise of the pokeball, human beings would be anhialated. Only thanks to Arceus' grace, which even that we don't deserve, we've lived thus far.

There's no other way looking at it. Anyone that advocates the release of Pokemon advocates the doom of our world as we know it. Nothing but idealistic fools too naïve and ignorant to even take a single look out their window.

Anyhow, vaniville was about to become a thing of the past. I glanced upwards at the giant arc with the number 1 emboldened on it. For some reason, they decided to name this route 1. The reason for this was due to the fact that the mayor of Kalos lived here with his family for several generations, and had the route named 1 simply because of his vanity, and nothing else other than that, really. I looked back one last time, to glance the expensively arranged mansions that decked most of vaniville, and raised my hands high up before retracting all my fingers but the middle one, pointing it at the city that had kept me caged for so long. Pouring my heart out at the last insult, I turned back to the town and dashed through the safe route which had no tall grass or anything that could allow pokemon to habitate the area.


End file.
